


It Started With a Whisper

by orphan_account



Series: WWE vs TNA Mashup [7]
Category: Professional Wrestling, Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internal Battles, M/M, Past Child Abuse/Neglect, Pining, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is <em>always</em> up for a challenge. Even when they come in the form of this asshole.</p><p>Okay, this is asshole is <em>really</em> hot, but that's not the point. He's a dick and a danger to his company, and the smirk on his face is really fucking annoying and Dean isn't sure if he wants to punch it or kiss it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All characters used are property of their respective companies; TNA and/or WWE. This story is completely fictional, and has never nor will ever happen. Any insults directed towards a company/owner/wrestler/personnel isn't my personal opinion, nor intended to harm the person/company, and is only used to enhance the plot. I don't have any rights to any song used in here, all rights belong to the band/singer and will be credited so. The title of this fic comes from the song Everybody Talks by Neon Trees.**

**Warning: homophobia, homophobic language, slight misogyny, lots of cursing, poor misrepresentation of TNA**

**A/N: Well, here I go again. This fic will differ from my previous mashups. Seth will go through the indies and end up in ROH. Evan Bourne (Matt Sydal) is the one who convinced Seth to go to the WWE instead of TNA, so we're hand waving that fact and pretending he went to TNA.**

**I hope everyone enjoys this, and gives it a shot. This chapter is short, and i apologixe for that, but it's only an introductory/teaser chapter. Please comment/kudos/bookmark - whatever you feel necessary. Thanks for reading! :)**

Chapter One:

There's a lot of responsibility that comes with being WWE World Heavyweight Champion, Dean's learned the hard way. There's a shit ton of press conferences, photo shoots, interviews - the list goes on and on.

But he's eternally grateful. Even if he has to wake up at five in the morning to book a flight to what knows where for some uber important business meeting after getting a mere three hours of sleep.

That's just child's play, if John Cena's word is anything to go by, eventually he'll get used to it. If he plans on being champion for awhile, he'll have to.

Still it fucking sucks.

Roman has started taking pity on him, going as far as to letting Dean use his stupidly large chest as a pillow on the plane.

But now they've landed and they're in the meeting room - one of the few places he can't sleep, no matter how much he'd like to. Taking a glance around the room, Dean spots the usual suspects - Cena, Randy Orton, Daniel Bryan - alongside Dean and his brother. There's also Natalya, Diva's Champion Paige, Cena's girlfriend Nikki and Bryan's wife Brie.

After a few minutes of the awkward silence, Triple H and the lovely Stephanie McMahon enter the room - their faces hard and serious.

"Ladies, gentleman." Hunter begins, "As some of you may know, TNA President Dixie Carter has called us out - again. They're desperate, fighting to stay alive. Destination America is threatening to cancel their show if they don't do something to increase viewer ratings."

"Being a multimillion dollar company, that makes us an easy target." Stephanie adds.

"We've all agreed that the nine of you will represent our company well, and have played a big part in this company." Triple H says. "This isn't a request, this is an order."

"That's all fine and dandy," Dean says, "but what does this all mean?"

"If we win, we get an influx of talent. If we lose, then we all might be out of a job." Hunter says, his voice cold. "It means we're going to _war_."


	2. "This is /my/ house"

**Disclaimer: All characters used are property of their respective companies; TNA and/or WWE. This story is completely fictional, and has never nor will ever happen. Any insults directed towards a company/owner/wrestler/personnel isn't my personal opinion, nor intended to harm the person/company, and is only used to enhance the plot. I don't have any rights to any song used in here, all rights belong to the band/singer and will be credited so. The title of this fic comes from the song Everybody Talks by Neon Trees.**

**Warning: homophobia, homophobic language, slight misogyny, lots of cursing, poor misrepresentation of TNA**

**A/N: Seth's theme song is Psychosocial by Slipknot.**

**Is everyone prepared for this shit to get real?**

Chapter Two:

"We're not allowed to walk through the crowd." Dean pouts. As part of the Shield, he and Roman always walked through the sea of fans. Even now, three years later, they still do. Even if they're not a team anymore.

"Suck it up, princess." Roman scoffs playfully.

Dean squints his eyes at his brother. "It's our thing, Ro."

"You should just be happy we're doin' this in our Shield gear." The Samoan points out. "Plus, I've heard the fans here are horrible - you wanna get mugged?"

"I'd like to see'm try." The brunette says, punching the air.

"Calm down, killer. Save that animosity for the enemy." Cena squeezes Dean's shoulder, giving him an approving smile. Don't get him wrong, Cena's not a friend. Though he's not exactly an enemy, either.

Frenemy? Is that a thing?

"How much longer do we gotta wait?" Dean asks,tapping his foot on the floor. He's an impatient motherfucker by nature, especially in unfamiliar territory where he's not exactly welcomed. Overall, he just feels uncomfortable, vulnerable, and on edge.

And he can't walk through the crowd.

This shit better be worth his time.

~

Dean Ambrose is not a man who believes in many things - but he does believe he owns the WWE since he is the champ. So, sitting back and watching this granny talk shit about his company isn't gonna fly.

That's why he - along with Roman and Cena for back up - are in this weird ass ring staring down this old woman wearing _way_ to much makeup and some douche bag looking guy with a shirt that says 'Trouble'.

"I really don't appreciate you insultin' my company." Dean says, chewing his gum obnoxiously (on purpose), staring down fuckface who's actually kind of tall. "I mean if ya wanted a pissin' contest, you could'a just asked."

"Mr. Ambrose," granny begins, her voice firm. "We don't want any trouble-"

"Obviously ya do, since you're out here sayin' we don't match up to your standards." Dean interrupts, because he's an asshole to all people in authority positions. "Which, by the looks of it, aren't very high."

Granny looks flabbergasted, "Excuse me?"

"What? Your locker rooms look like garbage, your fans are drunk, you can't afford a real ring. Hell, you can't even afford to pay your employees-"

"That is _enough_." She turns to fuckface. "Are you not gonna do somethin'?"

"What do you want me to? He's crazy, auntie." Granny - auntie? - turns back to Dean, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"You're a disrespectful little punk." She hisses. "I don't know who the hell you think you are. Waltzing into _my_ building and-"

_[ I did my time and I want out. So effusive - fade - it doesn't cut. The soul is not so vibrant. The reckoning, the sickening. Packaging, subversion. Pseudo sacrosanct perversion. Go drill your deserts, go dig your graves. Then fill your mouth with all the money you will save. Sinking in, getting smaller again. I'm done! It has begun! I'm not the only one!]_

Granny becomes visibly more pissed off and fuckface's face turns pale, like he's seen a ghost. 

Out comes this.. guy. The TNA Championship wrapped around his shoulder. Half his hair is blonde, the other black (isn't that being two toned?). He's wearing a black A Day to Remember muscle tee and matching skinny jeans, followed by yellow Converse. 

_[And the reign will kill us all... We throw ourselves against the wall. But no one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me ]_

The closer two toned gets, the hotter he looks to Dean.

Fuck, that's not okay.

Stud muffin gets in the ring and gives granny a look. "Dixie, it's adorable that you think this building belongs to you." He turns to Dean. "And you." He levels the brunette with a cold gaze, "I don't appreciate you walking onto my turf, uninvited, and acting like you're at the top of the food chain.

"Guess what, sunshine, this is _my_ house - and I don't care what company you work for, what title you carry. In TNA, you're stuck at the bottom with all the rookies and nobodies until you've _earned_ a spot in my ring." Two toned slightly tilts his head. "None of you can compete with the level of talent in our garbage infested locker room. You're not strong enough, you're not fast enough, you're not smart enough. We're better than you, and I'd definitely beat you in a dick measurin' contest any day of the week." He smirks, "You see, Dean Ambrose, John Cena, Roman Reigns.. we're _real_ men, and if you want a fight, then you better call Triple H to send in your big guns - 'cause we're not goin' down without a fight."

He wants a fight? Well. Dean is _always_ up for a challenge. Even when they come in the form of this asshole.

Okay, this is asshole is really hot, but that's not the point. He's a dick and a danger to his company, and the smirk on his face is really fucking annoying and Dean isn't sure if he wants to punch it or kiss it off.

"Seth, that is enough out of you." Granny - Dixie? - snaps, her face red. Seth looks at her, raising his eyebrows. "The only person who's fightin' tonight is you.. against Magnus.. right now."

Seth makes a face of disgust. "No."

"You can't say no! I'm your boss!"

"I fight Magnus all the time - and I always win. 'S no fun." Seth scoffs, continuing to smirking. Is it bad Dean is into his cocky, rebellious behavior? 

"Fine. You can have a three-on-two handicap match. Seth Rollins and A.J. Styles versus Ethan and The Dirty Heels - Bobby Roode and Austin Aries." Dixie (that's it, right?) growls. Fuckface's face pales further, his jaw dropping. "You three can watch from ringside."

_[Everybody get ready to fly... I am, I am.]_

Styles (well, shit. Someone Dean actually knows.) comes down the ramp, already dressed in his ring gear. Ambrose just rolls out of the ring, accompanied by his coworkers.

Hot stuff and Styles fist bump before this stupid sounding tag team comes out. Seriously, what kind of name is 'The Dirty Heels'?

"You think he's cute, huh?" Roman whispers, nudging his brother. Dean throws him a look, "Fuck off."

~

**A/N: I feel like this is force, boring, and not what I wanted. Ugh. Please, tell me what you guys thought by commenting/kudos/bookmarking/subscribing. Thanks for reading! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All characters used are property of their respective companies; TNA and/or WWE. This story is completely fictional, and has never nor will ever happen. Any insults directed towards a company/owner/wrestler/personnel isn't my personal opinion, nor intended to harm the person/company, and is only used to enhance the plot. I don't have any rights to any song used in here, all rights belong to the band/singer and will be credited so. The title of this fic comes from the song Everybody Talks by Neon Trees.**

**Warning: homophobia, homophobic language, slight misogyny, lots of cursing, poor misrepresentation of TNA**

**A/N: I'm such a horrible person, not paying attention to the fic I promised myself I would. Instead, I'm updating this. Good job self.**

**Anyways, enjoy some bonding! Please read, comment, bookmark, and subscribe. Thank you for your time, and I can't wait to hear from you all.**

Chapter Three:

When Seth first heard this guy's voice he had been walking past the guerrilla where the TV was playing loudly. His first thought had been _wow, this guy is hot_. Then he heard the insults coming out of this guy's mouth.

And he laughed.

Seth was about to walk away when he saw how pissed Dixie was and - well. What better time to take advantage of his boss and get an unscheduled match than now?

When he thought about a match, he hadn't considered a three-on-two handicap match. But, hey, it could've been worse. He could've been going solo or in a gauntlet.

... Then he actually started to wrestle the match. And, well. He forgot how fucking hot and uncomfortable doing anything productive in skin tight black jeans was.

Like he said before, it could've been worse. If EC3 hadn't ran away like the typical chicken shit heel he is, leaving Roode and Aries to Seth and A.J.'s wishes, they might've lost.

But Seth hit the Avada Kedavra and pinned Bobby up for the win, rolled into a standing position and flipped his hair. A.J. came up from behind and hugged his best friend.

That was yesterday, and today is a new day. Another day as a champion, and another day full of threats.

It's also another twenty four hours he has to fight to keep TNA - his home - alive, and another twenty four hours it _will be_.

Not that he'd ever say it out loud, but it's kind of terrifying wondering whether or not his home will go out of business and he'll be out a job. What will he do then? What will anyone of them do?

A.J. tells him not to worry about it, but how can't he? TNA is going down under, and a large amount of their talent is threatening to leave. If it wasn't for the strong sense of loyalty that courses through their locker room, they probably would have.

Trying to imagine TNA without Austin Aries, Bobby Roode, A.J. Styles, Magnus, etc doesn't sound like a bright future.

"Get out of your damn head and at least _pretend_ like you're not an over paranoid psycho for the afternoon." A.J. demands, rolling his eyes as he parks the car. Seth throws his friend a look.

"When did I become a psycho?" Seth asks. Over paranoid seems like a bit of a stretch (maybe he's a bit paranoid, but he has a good reason), but psycho? He deems himself as a perfectly normal - and sane - human being.

"You call yourself the Antichrist and enjoy makin' people bleed." A.J. points out. Seth groans, getting out of the rental.

"The Antichrist thing is Phil's fault and you know it," Seth defends himself. "And making people bleed is part of my character. Trying to entertain my followers, which is my job."

"Excuses, excuses." The Phenomenal One scoffs, knocking on the door to Phil's and April's house.

~

Daniel Bryan had suggested they all go spend the day with CM Punk and AJ Lee at their house (conveniently close to the arena). However uncomfortable it may be, Dean doesn't have a reason to object. He may not like people outside his Uce,but he needs to bond with his colleagues.

Who knows how long this thing will last. So, he has to play nice until it's all over. Then he and Roman will ride off into happy Shield land to never be bothered again.

(It's bullshit, but a man can dream. Damn it.)

Dean is, surprisingly, socially awkward. He's got kick ass mic skills, and he will never hold back during a promo. Away from the microphones and the cameras, he doesn't know what to say, how to start a conversation with someone he doesn't already know.

Talking to fans? Pain in the ass. He's so damn shy. Talking to those he works with and sees on an everyday basis? That's a new demon.

But Roman insisted, so he has to go. Cena, Orton, and Bryan don't seem like bad company (especially Cena). Punk and AJ appear to be okay people. This can't be to disastrous, right?

Right?

"Roman, Dean. So glad you could make it." Cena says, giving each of them that weird bro hug guys do to each other nowadays (normal hugs just aren't accepted in this society, apparently. Damn assholes.). Dean just gives a small smile, scratching his messy hair. 

Walking into Punk's living room, they receive similar greetings from the other men. AJ gives Dean a real hug, practically jumping on him.

Punk brings them all beer (light beer, because his wife wouldn't allow anyone different) and starts up the conversation with his UFC debut in December.

Dean leans back against the couch, listening to the conversation around him. He suddenly feels overdressed.

His... acquaintances and Roman are each dressed in shorts and a thing T-shirt with sandals. Hell, even AJ's clad in short shorts and a crop top. Dean, on the other hand, is wearing a leather jacket, a black, long sleeved Haste the Day band tee, jeans, and sneakers.

It's fucking summer time and he's wearing more layers than what is probably accepted as normal.

"Hey, sweetie, when are you friends getting here?" AJ asks, poking her head from out of the kitchen. Punk checks his watch.

"Any minute now."

"Are A.J. and Colby coming?" Bryan questions.

"Who else, man?" Punk snorts. "Bryan and I used to be real good friends with them back in ROH. Hope you guys don't mind."

"'Course not, man. It's your house." Orton says, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"The same A.J. and Colby from last night?" Cena asks for clarification, to which the ex-WWE Superstar nods.

A.J. Styles? That's... cool, Dean assumes. More people doesn't sound to pleasing, but Styles's accent is cool as fuck. He'll so put up with the awkward conversation attempts just to hear it.

The door bell rings a minute later, and AJ rushes to answer it. The small lady screams (hopefully in delight), and Styles's accent floats from the front door.

It sounds fucking amazing in person. Holy shit.

There's also another voice that Dean recognizes. The guy from last night, who he presumes to be Colby. But that's not his stage name (Dean's persistent on using stage names), right? It's.. It's.. Meth? No, why would his name be Meth?

Death? Beth? Peth? Leth? Is he even close?

Dean's terrible with names unless he's heard it a thousand times. Roman? He couldn't stop calling him Leakee for four months after they debuted (starting to call him Leakee took longer, rather than Big Samoan Dude).

Hot stuff and Styles greet Bryan and Punk (with real hugs, assholes) and shake hands with the rest of them. Hot stuff is dressed in two jackets - a black one over a grey one with the hood pulled up -, the same Haste the Day shirt Dean has on, black skinny jeans, and purple Converse. When he shakes Dean's hand, he smiles and grips extra tight.

(He ignores the electricity shooting up his spine.)

"Sorry about kind of being a dick last night. Gotta keep the fans interested, y'know." Cutie pie apologizes, blushing sheepishly. He takes a seat in the chair next to Dean - the only one available.

Damn. His face is adorable. Dean can't handle this already.

"That's alright, Seth." Roman says, giving Dean a pointed look. Just because he's not good at remembering names doesn't mean Roman has to rub it in his face all the time. Jeez.

Seth? That fits, kind of. Would've pegged him more as a Tyler, but what does Dean know?

"What's with you and giving Dixie a hard time?" Daniel asks, smiling as he does. Seth chuckles (or was that an angle singing?).

"The fans love it, man. They're all about the anti-Authority character who fights for equality, and shit like that." Seth answers, smiling, "What's with you and that beard? How does Brie even tolerate it?"

"Hey, respect the beard!" Bryan teases, "I happen to like the beard, by the way. Makes me look more like a real man."

"Goat man?" Styles chirps, causing everyone to laugh. Bryan chuckles, too, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Make all the jokes you want. The fans love it, the ladies love it. It's definitely working."

AJ Lee tsks, "Hon, I don't think it's the beard that the ladies love."

"The vegan lifestyle obviously outshines that beast." Seth adds.

"Stop making fun of poor Bryan." Punk says, "It's not his fault he has bad taste."

The teasing stops after a few minutes, and everyone evolves into their own, private conversations. Well, everyone except Seth and Dean.

Dean's eyes had been roaming the white, pristine walls of Mr. and Mrs. Punk's house when his eyes meet Seth's - and they lock. It's as if Dean can't move his blue orbs from the beautiful brown ones in front of him.

The brunette's heart beat increases, and he swallows past the lump forming in his throat. He seriously hopes he doesn't look nervous or something right now.

Damn his own stupid weirdness. If his awkwardness wasn't enough torture, talking to cute guys is double as hard. Next to impossible for him.

"So," Seth leans forward, "Are you honestly as crazy as they say you are?"

Dean chuckles (giggles, whatever), "Nah, man. I'm totally sane - most of the time."

Holy shit, he just formed a sentence. He deserves a standing ovation for this.

"You're not going to start murdering us then?" Dean shakes his head. "Great, man. I thought I was gonna have to unleash my inner ninja on you."

"Oh, you're a ninja?"

Two toned shrugs, "Technically, I'm the Antichrist, but I'm known for channeling my Kung Fu Panda skills every now and again."

"The Antichrist?" Dean repeats, his eyebrows raised.

"That's my nickname." Seth confirms, giving off a small smile.

"Holy shit, how'd you get that?"

"Hm, it's a long story."

"I don't have anythin' else better to do, do you?"

Seth shakes his head, "Not that I can think of."

Dean smiles - genuinely, "Great. Start from the beginning."

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on Tumblr! :)  
> teamambrollins23.tumblr.com


End file.
